


How You Remind Me

by H_W_Star



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But Mostly Hurt, M/M, Matt's whereabouts are still unknown, One-Shot, Sad, Shiro is tormented by it, hurt/some comfort, in-universe, slightly explicit, though could honestly take place at any time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:38:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_W_Star/pseuds/H_W_Star
Summary: Despite the time that has passed since Matt's disappearance, the pain of his absence and the uncertainty of his whereabouts do not haunt Shiro any less. Thus, almost every night, he's suffered through torturous dreams.





	How You Remind Me

**Author's Note:**

> Neither of these characters belongs to me; all ownership goes to the creators and owners of Voltron (although that gets tricky so I won't try to name them here).  
> I love this ship and I want them to be happy I promise  
> It's just that's not what's it been like lately so I thought I might try a fic inclusive of some of that pain. And regardless of whether or not you're a fan of this pairing, there's no doubt Shiro misses Matt, as a close comrade at the very least.  
> Thanks to all who stop by for a read, and hope you enjoy!

 

 

“Stop…Please, Matt, no more. No more of this.” Shiro’s voice broke halfway through his sentence, and he lifted pleading eyes to meet the soft brown ones of the young man standing in front of him. His expression was gentle, looking kindly at Shiro with a small smile. The tears were already forming in the corners of Shiro’s eyes.

He knew this was a dream. The first time it happened he had been so happy, thought he had actually found him. His arms had moved to pull him into a tight embrace and press his lips to the other man’s temple in a relieved kiss. Yet as soon as he got close his arms connected with nothing, and he had suddenly found himself in the darkness of his room with his arms extended towards empty air above him. That had been when he first realized it was solely a dream, an illusion crafted likely by a broken heart.

And yet, he couldn’t stop it. He understood it wasn’t real, that the Matt Holt smiling in front of him and touching his face with gentle hands was nothing more than, well, nothing; but the dream wouldn’t leave him be. The torture continued, often for several nights in succession, with only a few in between that were nightmare-free, almost like a break. Though he could hardly even call it that, as during those nights he usually couldn’t sleep, or kept waking up multiple times throughout. Of course, he never allowed himself to show the toll this had been taking on him, and he never spoke of it either.

How could he tell the others that Matt—or perhaps, despite the pain it caused him to consider it—Matt’s ghost, was plaguing him night after night in agonizing dreams? How could he look Pidge in the eye as he said that? He could hardly stand this pain himself; he could never let himself bring it unto others. Though if he was being honest with himself, he doubted the fact that he was really ‘standing it’ at all. So nearly every night, he suffered before the mirage of the man he loved.

This night, too, the pain was no different. Shiro ached to touch him. He wanted to run his hands through smooth red hair, feel the familiar shape of the body against his, run his thumb along soft lips. Though he knew what would happen if he tried any of it.

And while he did want this to stop, wanted to put an end to this misery plaguing him every night, a very small part of him didn’t want Matt to go. A part of him would take even this version of his boyfriend over nothing at all. Though all he really had here _was_ nothing. He knew that. Yet even being able to see him again, while it wreaked havoc on his mind and soul, meant something.

He watched as Matt knelt down, and felt the gentle trace of soft fingertips as they wiped away his tears. The touch of his fingers was replaced with that of Matt’s lips as he softly kissed the corners of Shiro’s eyes, then pulled back to look at him once more. The tender look in those brown eyes brought with it a new wave of pain, and Shiro gasped out a sob.

“Matt,” he begged. “Please. Stop this.”

However, the younger man didn’t listen and instead tilted his head slightly to the side to gently capture Shiro’s lips in his own.

The kiss was all kinds of agony, in the fact that he couldn’t touch him but could feel his touch, in the fact that every motion of Matt’s mouth against his own sent new pangs of grief and heartache through him, in the feel of Matt’s hands cradling his face with no way of holding him back.

Matt deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Shiro’s lips, drinking in the man’s tears, until Shiro, defeated, finally gave up. He let Matt’s hands press against his back and waist and arms, the feel of his touch like searing fire. Let the man’s mouth kiss along his jawline and down his throat, all of it so familiar yet so incredibly painful. Matt quieted his sobs and ragged breaths with his mouth, shushing him with soft lips and a gentle tongue.

It killed him.

He felt the smooth pressure of Matt’s tongue, stroking his own; needy, wanting, and insistent. Shiro had to dig his nails into the floor in order to keep himself from sliding his hands up Matt’s torso to roughly fix his grip in the young man’s hair and ravage his mouth. His tormented moan was muffled by Matt’s mouth.

He felt the hand on his chest, felt the slight vibration of his jacket’s zipper being located and pulled down halfway by nimble fingers. The familiarity pained him; with half-clenched teeth he fought the urge to reach up and gently intertwine their fingers as he was so used to doing. But Matt’s lips on his jaw were more urgent than they ever were in real life, and left scorching blooms of fire upon his skin in their chaotic wake. Those fiery lips moved south, blazing a bruising trail down his neck. His breath was coming out of him in pants, and when Matt lightly bit the place between his neck and left shoulder he sucked in a sharp hiss of breath.

Matt’s mouth was on his chest now, licking and sucking as it rose and fell with his hitched breathing. The heated assault tore a moan from his throat, and immediately that fiery mouth was back on his own, as Matt’s hand slid down to trace across his abdomen. But soon that hand glided down towards dangerous territory.

He could feel the hot streaks of tears return to his cheeks at that touch on his metal arm, the only touch that could actually make it feel human. His heart felt like someone had stabbed their hand through his chest and were dragging razor nails across it.

_God, Matt._

He had to stop this. Mercifully Matt’s fingers moved to his hair, running through it and causing dull bolts of pain to reverberate in his chest. Shiro’s heart was constricting so painfully he almost couldn’t breathe. He knew he was only worsening the torture, that letting Matt take full control like this was going to end in the farthest thing from well. But he couldn’t stop it, not even if he wanted to. And at this point, he didn’t even know what he wanted. In letting this happen, had invited entirely new realms of pain, each movement like daggers piercing through him, but instead of a sharp sting it came as a leaden ache, adding to the dull feel in his chest. It made him want to grip Matt close and tight, but he was reminded that this would all go away if he did. The tears began anew, and Shiro forced himself to break away from the torturous kiss and stayed there, on his knees, gasping out strangled sobs.

He felt a soft palm cradle his cheek and he shook his head weakly.

“Stop it, Matt…” It was no more than a broken whisper now. His sorrowful plea, as feeble as he. Though regardless of how weak he had become, he knew exactly what to do to end it. It would only take one touch. It would be simple; he had done it innumerable times before, all by accident but done nonetheless.

Yet still, a part of him cried out in protest. If he weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have let out a wry, humorless laugh. It was going to hurt either way.

But if Shiro could kiss him one last time…

He didn’t know if doing so would put an end to the nightmares as a whole, but whatever the case, he couldn’t bear this hell any longer. Regardless of how desperate he was to see Matt, to hold him and kiss him and feel that he was all right, show him that he was safe, he knew he only wanted to do that with the real Matt. Only then would it stop being painful. He didn’t want this Matt anymore.

He wanted to hear the familiar “Hey, babe,” and feel the real Matt’s arms loop around his neck as the younger man stood on his tiptoes to peck Shiro on the nose, followed by that dorky grin. He wanted to hear Matt’s victorious laugh when he discovered a new sample. He wanted to trace idle circles into smooth skin as he listened to soft breathing in peaceful darkness. He just wanted Matt back.

But, at least for these last few moments, he could pretend. He could pretend these hands on his hips were the real Matt’s, could pretend the press of lips to his collarbone was genuine, and could will himself to pretend the soft brown he would open his eyes to contained Matt’s own warmth.

So when he did open his eyes, and brought his hands up to grasp both sides of the younger man’s face, he captured Matt’s lips in one last kiss, even as he felt him fade away. 

When he woke in the dark of his small room, he tasted salt on his tongue, and the ghosted pressure of soft lips on his own.     


End file.
